


even broken hearts may have their doubts

by exyjunkies



Category: All For the Game - Nora Sakavic
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Break Up, M/M, Post-Break Up, this got too wild on tumblr so here it is on ao3
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-05
Updated: 2018-06-27
Packaged: 2018-07-12 09:32:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 16,269
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7096927
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/exyjunkies/pseuds/exyjunkies
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Neil says no to Andrew, who takes it a lot harder than he wants to.</p><p>[Breakup AU, Post-TKM | Updates every Sunday]</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. the flame we had is burning out

**Author's Note:**

> written for the prompt: "Neil breaks up with Andrew to protect him".
> 
> this was initially posted on [my tumblr](http://exyjunkies.tumblr.com) as a series of prompt asks but then so many people wanted me to make this multi-chaptered so. for less hassle on both mine and the readers' part, here it is
> 
> *titles are taken from [this Mayday Parade song](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9R2XPe01Tr0)!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [andrew's pov]
> 
> “It’s over, Andrew. Whatever this… _this thing_ between us is, I’m ending it.”

The words felt like a crushing blow to the ribs, a piercing knife to the heart. Andrew supposed it was because it was so abrupt and _so late_ at night that he felt like he was living through a nightmare. Seeing Neil in front of him was the only convincing indication that this was indeed reality, and that _yes_ , he was most definitely awake; Neil never starred in any of his nightmares.

In fact, if he could say anything on the matter, Neil helped him deal with his nightly episodes. Better than anybody who had ever tried. And the things that helped Andrew deal with his past could be counted on one hand.

The shithead, it seemed, never stopped feeling like a distant dream, one he can’t seem to help but reach for.

“It’s over, Andrew. Whatever this… _this thing_ between us is, I’m ending it.”

“Why?” The word scratched his throat like sandpaper. Andrew hoped it sounded bored and not desperate, not _hurt_.

A hand to the neck and not wanting to meet Andrew’s eyes; for a break-up, this was more tinged with avoidance than was appropriate.

“Because there are dangers, Andrew, real-life fucking _terrors_ that are running after me, have always been running after me for a long time, and I,” at this, Neil looked Andrew in the eye and softened his tone, “I can’t run fast enough to keep you safe.”

 _Bullshit_. “This is unnecessary.” Andrew replied, apathy building up his walls fast enough to avoid looking like he actually gave a damn about… _whatever_ Neil was doing. 

“I’m serious, Andrew,” Neil insisted, taking a tentative step towards the blond boy. “I’m only doing this so that you’ll be safe.”

The wind seemed to blow harsher around them, the rooftop feeling a little less stable and a lot more shaky. Andrew inwardly cursed himself for ever allowing Neil to the rooftop; now, every inch of it will be stained by the monstrosity of this night. Andrew couldn’t help thinking that what Neil was doing was unfair, was terribly unjustified because all that he’s ever done for the striker was keep him together.

If Andrew didn’t know what grasping at straws felt like, he certainly knew now. “I made a promise to you, and I’m not going to let you disregard all that. Don’t make me go back on what I intend to keep.”

“ _Fuck your promise_ ,” Neil spat out bitterly, looking back down at his feet. “It’s a promise you never should’ve made. Simply standing near me is a risk; you know my father’s men are everywhere. I won’t let them get to you through me. You’ve been through enough as it is.”

Andrew chose the people he let in, and there was a process before they were even part of his inner circle. This brown-haired, blue-eyed insufferable asshole had waltzed in and made Andrew bypass all his rules. It was only because Neil was damaged and broken, and Andrew figured his existence could survive around someone who understood what it was like to have past demons creep up to the present, what it was like to be _like him_. It was only for that specific reason.

Stubbornly, Andrew refused to believe there was more to it than he was choosing to acknowledge. He also didn’t want to accept that this was anything but Neil’s good-natured fear. Maybe Neil was just afraid, and this would be okay in a few days.

“What makes you think you can take care of yourself?”

At this Neil’s expression adapted a glare, and he stared hard at Andrew. “I’ve been living my life on the run for as long as I can remember. I don’t need you standing by my side like some fucking bodyguard, like I’m too fragile to breathe on my own! You,” he angrily poked a finger on Andrew’s chest, “are _not good enough_ for somebody to depend on.”

Before Neil could do anything about it, Andrew grabbed his finger and twisted sharply. Neil’s face contorted in pain; Andrew almost felt sorry.  _Almost._

“ _Don’t fucking touch me, Josten_ ,” Andrew said lowly, throwing aside Neil’s hand. _You just lost the privilege to do so._ Coming up close to Neil’s face, he continued, “And don’t you _dare_ come looking for me when you realize all of this was a stupid mistake.”

He took one last look at Neil and walked away, throwing his stubbed cigarette away as he did. Making his way down the stairwell, Andrew found himself ignoring the unfamiliar emotion eating away somewhere in his chest. 

And as much as he would hate to admit it, there was also a part of him that wished Neil hadn’t let him leave that easily.

Maybe Andrew shouldn’t have said those last few words. Maybe he should let Neil make him take them back.

But Andrew Minyard knew better than to deny it when he hears no. And up on the roof, he heard Neil loud and  _too fucking clear._


	2. a life of barely breathing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [neil's pov]
> 
> Maybe he was feeling guilty. Yeah, maybe it was just guilt, and nothing more. Because if it were something more, then Neil was in deep shit.

Neil didn’t know why, but the days seemed to be longer, felt stretched past their limits. It’s only been three days since his “break up” (even though Neil wasn’t sure what to call it yet, it felt like a break up, so the name stays), but the hours grew into years, the minutes painfully dragging by like the slow run of chalk on blackboard. 

“Mr. Josten! Is there _any_ reason why you’re staring into space instead of listening to my lecture?”

The teacher (whose name he’d chosen to forget a long, _long_ time ago) was looking at him all the way from the front, eyebrows scrunched together, face carrying a stern expression. Neil didn’t really care enough about the subject, but he did care about Exy, so he needed an acceptable grade from this teacher. 

Straightening up in his seat, Neil replied, “Nothing, ma’am. All the focus is back on you.” Not his best line, and definitely not the truth, but it was enough to reassure her to turn around and continue droning on about a chemistry term’s definition.

Maybe he was feeling guilty. Yeah, maybe it _was_ just guilt, and nothing more. Because if it were something more, then Neil was in deep shit.

* * *

“Do you think I made a mistake?” It’s a question he’s been mulling around ever since he went to sleep _that night_ and found nothing but an unfamiliar emptiness. Neil hadn’t been thinking ahead, and completely forgot that he and Andrew shared a room. That first night, he had slept on Kevin’s old bed, and heard Andrew get back to the room and on his bed a half hour later. 

Neil highly doubted Andrew got any sleep that night either.

But it wasn’t like he should be in any position to _care_ , so effective the next day, he relocated to Matt’s couch, and has been there ever since. Aaron, Kevin, and Nicky had been confused with the sudden turn-out, but were wise enough to not bother Andrew about it or even see about going back to their old room. 

“Well, if anything, you’re looking a bit gloomy nowadays,” Matt pointed out, after eating a generous spoonful of ice cream. Moving his tongue around his mouth, he paused to think, then added, “Do you miss him?”

There were a lot of ways Neil could respond to this inquiry. He reviewed his options.

 _“More than I should_.” No. 

 _“More than I expected to_.” No way in _hell._

 _“I miss how I was when I was with him.”_ Too close to the truth.

 _“I wish I could slap myself for doing what I did.”_ Not truthful enough.

“His hatred for me helps me deal with it, I guess,” Neil replied, the words leaving a bitter taste on his tongue. Even a half-truth tasted terrible. There was a reason why Matt was the only person he told; now, he can’t remember why he even bothered telling anyone. 

Narrowing his eyes, Matt asked, “Why do you sound like you’re lying?” He pointed the spoon accusingly at Neil. “You got my couch for a reason.”

“I’m not,” Neil started, but thought better of it. Before he could say anything else though, Matt stood up and directed his spoon at Neil again. The upperclassman had _eureka!_ written all over his face. “Aha! _Denial_. That’s a stage of grief. Don’t think I don’t know these things, Neil.”

Sighing, Neil got up from the couch. He needed to resort to desperate measures. “I’m going to go for a run. I don’t know why I thought talking about it with you would help.”

The door slammed behind him just in time for Neil to hear, “Because I’ve got better advice than anybody around here!”

* * *

He ran for a good five miles before turning around and heading back to Fox Tower. No Fox approved of running being Neil’s go-to solution whenever he needed stress relief, but nobody tried to get him out of the routine either. It hadn’t helped like he expected it to, but the uneasiness in his chest was partially gone, and Neil will take any comfort he was afforded.

Sprinting down Perimeter Road, he spotted a familiar head of white hair with colored tips walking back to the dorms. It was Renee. No doubt back from one of her sparring sessions with Andrew. Neil briefly registered the fact that it was Saturday; he didn’t even remember what day it was anymore. _God, I’m a mess_. 

“Renee!” Neil put a hand up to stop her from walking, and ran towards her. He thought he saw something shift in the girl’s expression before she greeted, “Hello, Neil. Running again?”

Neil opened his mouth to speak, but he distracted by the bruise quickly blooming on Renee’s left eye. He knew these sparring sessions got violent, but the bruise had… a messy sort of  _anger_ radiating from it. Like Renee’s face had been an outlet.

“Your eye—” He couldn’t help wincing at the sight of it. Renee ducked when Neil trying to get a closer look.

“Oh, this? Think nothing of it. Just another lucky hit from Andrew, that’s all.” Renee replied, giving him a trademark soft smile and turning around to enter Fox Tower.

Maybe it was his imagination, but Neil thought he saw fear briefly pass by Renee’s expression.

* * *

“You need to start talking to your ex again, or at least about his issues,” Matt remarked, when he and Neil were the only ones awake. They both sat on the couch, watching a movie.

“Why?” Neil felt like he knew why, but decided to press anyway.

Matt shoved a handful of popcorn into his mouth and shrugged. “Dan and Allison were freaking out a few hours ago over Renee’s black eye. So eventually, Dan told me to talk to you,” Neil’s eyes widened at this, but Matt quickly clarified, “Oh, no, they don’t know anything. Your secret’s safe with me. In fact, they still think you guys are together—and _also_ why the pot’s still growing.”

 _A fucking bet,_  Neil thought and groaned. _Of course_ there was money riding on him and Andrew. He wondered who bet against it, and silently congratulated them on the money. He also thought of the disappointed face Nicky would pull when the rest of the team figures it out. This can’t stay a guarded secret forever, and Neil knew it.

“Fine,” Neil gave in, but before Matt’s happy face could make a show, he added, “But only about Renee, and nothing else.” He stood up and shrugged on his jacket. 

“Oh, I’m _so_ winning the bet,” Matt replied in a sing-song voice. Neil didn’t stay long enough to ask what side he bet on.

* * *

Neil thought it was just typical of Andrew to be on the roof even at one in the morning. He saw the door to the rooftop open on his way up the stairwell, and sighed. _Here goes nothing_.

A few steps on the rooftop, and he already heard Andrew’s dismissive, “Go away. You’re not welcome here anymore.”

He swallowed. That stung; he hadn’t expected Andrew to acknowledge what they had in any way. This was going to be a lot harder than he thought. Neil didn’t know what hurt more: the fact that he wasn’t welcome, or the fact that he _used to be_.

Instead of leaving, and instead of saying anything in reply, Neil took a deep breath, and went nearer until he was standing a few feet beside Andrew. The both of them stood there for what felt like an eternity, Andrew taking casual drags of his cigarette and Neil staring out at the road below.

Some part of his brain reminded Neil that he was just here to ask about Renee, and he really did intend to do just that, but the words that came out were a choked, “I’m sorry.”

The silence between them was a drowning presence, and Neil, for a moment, actually _missed_ breathing properly. Several heartbeats later, Andrew replied, “You don’t need to be.”

What Neil heard was, _I hate that you are._

Clearing his throat, Neil continued, “You hurt Renee today.”

The weight in his chest wasn’t helping, and Neil inwardly scolded himself for being such an idiot. He could hear his mother’s disappointed _I told you so_ right by his ear. 

 _“_ It wasn’t for her.” Neil felt Andrew shift to turn towards him, and he faced the blond boy, whose eyes were looking directly into his.

 _It was because I needed it_ , Neil heard him mentally finish. 

Neil was speechless. _That_ was a punch to the gut. Right then and there, Andrew confirmed just how much he was hurting too. Some of his vulnerability was showing, and Neil saw how much Andrew tried to hide it.

“What do you—” Neil was cut off by a hand to his throat, enough pressure to make him gasp.

“Didn’t you hear me? I told you to _go away_ ,” Andrew said, emphasizing the last two words with his fingers tightening around Neil’s throat. “ _Just like you did_. Why can’t you follow through?”

“Because I—,” Neil tried inhaling enough air for his reply, but was forced to splutter it out, “I should’ve— told you— to… _to stay_.”

The death grip loosened slightly as Neil saw a shift in Andrew’s expression. Emotions were rarely on Andrew’s face; they were usually locked far inside, because showing this part of himself meant giving too much away. 

Before Neil could make anything of it, Andrew let him go and turned away. “I don’t care.”

“I mean it, Andrew,” Neil said, quiet but firm, rubbing his neck. Taking a deep breath, he went on, “I never should’ve said that last bit, about you not being good enough, when you were more than I could’ve ever asked for.” Looking down, he whispered, “I never should’ve thrown it all away.”

Neil felt Andrew looking at him again, this time with an intensity he couldn’t fully comprehend. The realization that all this was embarrassing, coming back to Andrew when _he_ was the one who told him to go _fuck off_ , was hitting him full force, and he didn’t know what else to make of himself. 

It hurt him twice over, because as much as he wanted Andrew to take him back, he knew he didn’t deserve it. 

He was looking down at the ground, the regret slowly filling up his insides. He was also vaguely aware of the fact that he told Andrew to stay away a few days ago on the exact same rooftop. 

Then again, good timing was a foreign concept to Neil.

Neil didn’t have any choice but to comply when his chin was forced up.

“Say that again,” Andrew said threateningly, “and realize how _stupid_ it all sounds.” 

Neil _hated_ that he could hear the hurt stitched in with the anger; it only added to the fact that he never should’ve done this. There was a part of him that knew Andrew would never take him back, but Neil had to at least _try_.

“I never should’ve told you to break your promise,” he managed, keeping his eyes level with Andrew’s. It was a weak attempt at mending things, but Neil didn’t have anything else. 

And without Andrew, he felt like he didn’t have _anybody else_. 

There was something in Andrew’s eyes, _something_  that Neil wanted to understand, but before he could, Andrew took his hand back.

“When someone says no, they should be listened to,” Andrew replied, an apathetic look rushing to mask his earlier expression. “Now get out of my sight.”


	3. the brightest red to grays

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [andrew's pov]
> 
> Neil ending things submerged him into reality’s waters; it felt like every fragment of his humanity evaporating right before his eyes, and Andrew wanted nothing more than to forget that he was ever actually _alive_.
> 
> Of course, he would die twice over before ever admitting this to anybody.

A life tactic Andrew has engraved on every single tombstone of his being is this: _if you don’t let them, they won’t hurt you._

Every time a part of him died, the words got etched in deeper. Somehow, Andrew thought of it as a form of self-preservation, a bullet-proof way to keep existing, even though he knew he wasn’t really alive. The world seemed to function better with him in it, so Andrew, or what was left of him, stuck around.

When Neil Josten came into the picture, much like a fist breaking through a glass wall, something stirred deep inside of Andrew, seemingly rising from its deep slumber. It was an awakening Andrew didn’t prepare for. This previously dormant part of him spread all throughout his body faster than Andrew could even believe. There was enough evidence present to be sure that no one could resurrect his soul that easily. For reasons unknown, Andrew let him in, allowed Neil to give what he could and take what he needed, because things were different, but not entirely despicable. Between the wreckage they both were grew a trust neither of them were ready for. He was blissfully unaware of the fact that the longer his _thing_ with Neil lasted, the more he grew _sentient_ , the more _human_ he actually became, choosing to continue with the belief that he was still his same uncaring, apathetic self.

Neil ending things submerged him into reality’s waters; it felt like every fragment of his humanity evaporating right before his eyes, and Andrew wanted nothing more than to forget that he was ever actually _alive_.

Of course, he would die twice over before ever admitting this to anybody.

From past experience, memories, good or bad, are not simple matters easily purged from the mind. It was bad enough that the other Foxes were already mildly suspicious of how Neil distance himself from his usual blond counterpart. So Andrew let himself stay, without actually being there. As long as there weren’t any personal boundaries broken, he allowed himself to bend his own rules. It was keeping tabs while slowly easing his white knuckle-tight grip off of Neil, one moment at a time.

To anybody else, it might be creepy; to Andrew, it was doing what Neil wanted him to do while effectively making sure the murder magnet didn’t get himself into any trouble.

He made it a point to keep a watchful eye on the striker, whose whereabouts were as predictable as they were easy to find surveillance spots for. Except for his classes (which Andrew was familiar with, long before the break up), Neil only went to the court, the library, plus a few places downtown. Andrew’s biggest comfort was that Neil rarely went anywhere alone, but he favored being sure over pushing aside his worry. With a bit more effort, Andrew was able to map out his three usual running routes, and eventually figured out that Neil assigned a different route per day so that he ended up jogging different paths everyday. _Junkie_.

If Neil didn’t want Andrew protecting him in close proximity, then he was going to do it with his eyes, vantage points, and knives at the ready.

(Besides, it only counted as stalking if Neil felt unsafe, and Andrew wanted the exact opposite of that.)

* * *

The rooftop was a place Andrew retreated to when he felt that a fresh breath of air (or a generous inhale of nicotine) was all he needed to ground himself. Everybody knew better than to go up to his safe haven, and the last person Andrew granted passage to was Neil. _That_ unavoidable truth, as well as the memories that came with, gave birth to the sinking feeling that grew in Andrew’s chest whenever he came up for a smoke or thought gathering. He supposed something that was neither his fault nor something he could’ve foreseen couldn’t be helped.

He knew Neil was on the court with Kevin tonight; it was the first Exy night practice Andrew opted to stay out of. Usually, the blond wordlessly agreed to go along, even if he offered the bare minimum to help. Kevin had replied with an odd expression on his face, but before he could ask, Neil had dragged him out of the door with a rushed, “Bye Andrew”. 

So much for subtlety. Andrew had to give the starting striker points for trying. Or out of pity. 

_Maybe “pity” isn’t the correct word._

That was the thing: even if it was logical to completely blame Neil for the ruined state they were both in, Andrew couldn’t help but cut him some slack. Over time, his brain had developed the flawless ability to justify Neil’s side of things. As substantial as the reasoning was behind each rationalization, _that part_ of Andrew seemed to craft arguments that centered around Neil being the lesser evil. And because the hardest debate to win is one with the self, Andrew had no choice but to reach settlements that favored Neil’s side more than his own for the sake of some mental peace and quiet.

As much as he wanted to say how much he hated it, how much it annoyed him that he kept being overthrown by his own thought processes, Andrew knew that that would give way for yet another heated internal discussion.

Even so, Andrew stubbornly refused to believe that it was all because he cared. _That_  was what he wouldn’t dare give up, because it would mess up his entire framework, and he’d have to go back all the way to square one.

The cigarette between his fingers was burning out fast, but Andrew was staring at the court, observing Kevin’s nightly Exy ritual with Neil. He knew both starting strikers were having the time of their lives; Kevin, for being able to give constructive criticism that was borderline insulting, and Neil, for being able to improve his game and retaliate with a few of his comments whenever he got the chance. He exhaled slowly, releasing all the tension the day brought him.

“You could just talk to him, you know,” a firm yet concerned voice said from behind him.

“Dan.” Andrew knew there would be no one else braver than the ex-team captain to cross such territorial boundaries; it grudgingly earned her his respect, even if it meant having to stay in line and actually listen to her. Having graduated only a few months back, Dan was still around as assistant coach, which meant he didn’t have to answer to her directly. Still, there was a ferocity somewhere in Danielle Wilds that brought her to who she is today, and it was an authority Andrew would rather not provoke. It just wasn’t worth it.

“Matt told me,” Dan explained, stepping up a few feet beside Andrew. She looked up at the sky and considered her next words. “His side of the story anyway. You know, he didn’t really mean it.”

Oh, how Andrew would’ve _loved_ to hear Neil’s version of what went down. Maybe it wasn’t as soul-crushing as his was. He closed his other hand around tight air and prepared a well-meaning punch, but decided against it. “It’s none of your business,” he said instead. 

Dan crossed her arms, the way she did when someone was right, but she still wanted a way around it. “It automatically is if it interferes with our game. With practices.”

Thoughtfully, Andrew considered this and hummed a wordless response. He was shutting down goals left and right during each practice; Wymack didn’t even have to give a number at the last away game. If anything, their last win was _because_ of Andrew. The press even gathered the courage to approach him after the game (not that he cared enough to oblige). If he wasn’t the one slipping… _maybe_ it was Neil.

“Nicky and Renee haven’t been at their best lately,” Dan continued, a little sterner this time around. “Matt is able to ignore these things on the court, but it’s only a matter of time before this gets to Allison, Kevin, and then Coach. Somehow, you and Neil on the court are better than ever, but whatever is happening in your personal lives is messing up the team’s entire mojo.”

 _Of course._  The junkie wouldn’t have slipped just because of a minor emotional setback. It wasn’t like him; Andrew expected far greater and far more from Neil, who lived like his life practically depended on how well he did during each game. Maybe it was even driving the both of them to do better on the court. 

 _Maybe they were better off without each other,_ Andrew’s mind chorused.

“And you know as well as anyone here that the team’s got a pot riding on the both of you,” Dan added, “but that’s not really the point— “ 

“The entire team’s mojo is something I don’t need to care about,” Andrew angrily insisted, stubbing his cigarette and tossing it down from the rooftop. It fell on top of a red car’s hood. “Let Coach fix them.”

“Think of this as Coach fixing them,” Dan replied, sounding like she knew she was walking on thin ice. Still, she kept on with a steady tone. “Whatever you and Neil did wrong, I want it cleaned up.”

Andrew said nothing in response, choosing to inhale some of the cold night air, and after a few minutes, Dan walked away, thinking she effectively got her point across.

He wondered what Neil had been telling Matt about what happened. There wasn’t room for asking or even bothering to make amends with Neil, but Andrew had to admit to the small shred of curiosity silently lurking within. 

For the most part, Andrew chose to not dwell on it, and stuffed his hands in his jacket pockets. 

* * *

Whenever Neil went jogging, Andrew had no choice but to jog a few miles behind him and take care not to be seen. His feet were light enough to soundlessly follow the striker’s route, all the possible options of which Andrew had familiarized himself with. 

It came as a surprise to him, then, when at a street corner, Neil turned right instead of left. 

They were both far away from Palmetto State University, and were already edging the outskirts of the city. Beneath the trees, Andrew wished Neil knew where he was going, because he _sure as hell_ didn’t.

For a good ten minutes, Neil ran ahead, earphones on and unaware. He made turns that made Andrew question what his motive was. Sometimes it was frustrating whenever Andrew couldn’t figure out which way he went. The sky was quickly changing, and the clouds signaled a light (or possibly heavy) rain. The place was slowly growing unfamiliar, but still, Neil kept on. 

Finally, Neil slowed to a stop by a fire hydrant on the side of the road. Andrew didn’t know enough about the map to pinpoint their exact location, but he knew it was still a safe distance from Palmetto State, and knew how he could easily get back there in an hour. Andrew hid with the shadows, and watched. 

Neil sat down beside the fire hydrant and gasped for air, looking tired from the running. Andrew knew he wasn’t really tired, because whenever he ran, he needed something off his chest.

The striker had done nothing for a few moments, but Andrew zeroed in on what he brought out of his sweatpants pocket. It was too far away to be determined, but Andrew immediately had a hunch; there was nothing else Neil brought everywhere, except...

 _His key_.

Furrowing his eyebrows, Neil glared at it like it did a mistake, then closed a fist around it and sighed loudly. Neil spoke to his closed fist, and Andrew wasn’t near enough to hear properly, but he was able to read lips when he needed to.

“I’m sorry.”

He slammed the key down beside him on the ground, and put both his knees up. Neil wrapped his arms around his legs and set his head down, the key sitting abandoned beside him.

Watching the scene unfold made Andrew swallow hard; he didn’t know what he was trying to keep down, and he didn’t know what all of that meant, but at the moment, he wished he wasn’t there at all. A gnawing emotion was eating at his chest, and he didn't know what to make of it. The apology looked harsh; as if Neil didn’t forgive himself, but hoped that Andrew did.

Before he could see or do anything else, Andrew turned around and ran away, back to Fox Tower and away from Neil.


	4. and i don't need you or anybody else

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [neil's pov]
> 
> While Neil wasn't the type to pore over articles and absorb information like an addicted sponge, he needed answers, and he wasn't getting any reliable ones from human sources.
> 
>  
> 
> [this is the article i used for reference lmao](http://personalexcellence.co/blog/how-to-move-on/)

If Andrew was already over him, then Neil was determined to do the fucking same.

Self-conflict was common for someone as morally ambiguous as Neil; if anything, the internal debate was what fueled the blood in his veins to keep flowing. But it hurt — _oh god, how it hurt a lot —_ that Andrew would avoid him like the goddamn plague. There were times that the fiery war in Neil's heart ended whenever he'd catch Andrew looking at him, a brief flash of something close, something  _familiar_  shining through the hazel — then Andrew would make a show of turning away, a sharp inhale and closed eyes ending whatever hope Neil harbored inside of him. 

Neil wasn't strong enough for this. Really, this made him feel like he wasn't strong enough for  _anything_. All he's been through hadn't been enough to prepare him for this emotional disaster. He supposed it was only fair, given that the only emotions he knew well were anger and the urge to kill, all taken from a violent childhood long over and gone. Now that he's fighting a different battle, he knew he had to win it by other means; Neil being Neil, he'd put himself through hell to get himself out of it. The one thing anybody could respect about Neil Josten was that he was more persistent than the most desperate person anyone knew. 

So persistently, he looked for the one way out. Pulling up various articles from Google about moving on was half the job. Reading through them and navigating a reasonable alternative to the drastic measures these authors were suggesting, however, was a completely different story. While Neil wasn't the type to pore over articles and absorb information like an addicted sponge, he needed answers, and he wasn't getting any reliable ones from human sources. He settled on the first one, assuming that this had the most reads, and began.

**1\. Clear your baggage. Acknowledge, accept, and let go of your feelings.**

_Jesus._ Even just the first step was damned near impossible. He knew these things took time (the shitstorm he's in wouldn't be such a shitstorm if it was that easy, really), but Neil thought he was capable enough to at least find a way around it. There was nothing he could possibly acknowledge, accept, or let go of when Neil had to spend at least half the day with Andrew being no less than seven feet from him. Avoiding him could be an option, but time was no element when Dan picked up on team tension. She'd intervene the moment her nose sniffed something was off. Nicky would be privy to these matters of the heart, and would no doubt ask him about it the first chance he gets. And because he didn't have any other friends, the only crowd Neil had was the Foxes, and Kevin seemed to always have Andrew for a looming shadow.  

Either Neil needed new friends, or needed another sport. Or, probably, needed to hightail it out of this hellhole. There's really no difference.

**2\. Recognize he/she is not the one for you.**

This bullshit article was making less and less sense. It wasn't Andrew that was the problem, it was  _Neil_. Neil and his father's cronies, who were, no doubt, out to get him and all those associated with the Butcher's son. While Andrew terrified the crap out of most people and was a potential threat to anybody who pushed a button, Neil couldn't risk him being hurt. And on the subject of recognizing faults, wasn't anything wrong with Andrew, except for maybe how he was treating Neil right now, but even that wasn't blame-worthy. Thinking about it now, Neil supposed Andrew could've been everything he wanted him to be, if he hadn't gone and shut him down. 

 _God_ ,  _it'll always keep coming back to that night, won't it_ , Neil thought bitterly, grinding his teeth together and swallowing. Oh, how he wanted to be anywhere but here.  _Just swallow me already, ground_. 

Somewhere inside him, Neil knew the guilt had to count for something. He just wasn't sure if Andrew would perceive that as a good thing. The guilt would just have to continue burning through his insides like acid.

**3\. Share it with your close friends.**

_Oh_. Neil, for a single moment, was visibly proud of himself for having skipped two steps; deciding to tell Matt was as progressive as the heaviest snail. The advice was good-natured, meant to heal the heart of somebody who's been broken too many times for the count, but Neil couldn't make anything out of Matt's concern and (soon after) Dan's captain-purposed opinions. He needed real, solid advice, methods that would help him get past the ordeal, the memories of that night, the deathly silence. He needed a different kind of noise, just so he'd forget the quiet hollow that existed within him.

It was the lonely nights that Neil hated the most. He could deal with Andrew being gone during the day, mostly because his teammates were there to help keep his mind off of it, but hitting his mattress after a long day only ingrained deeper the fact that he had no one to pull him out of his nightmares anymore. Neil wasn't exactly sure what he hated more: falling asleep alone, or waking up to an empty space behind him.

Also, if Matt knew, then Dan knew, which meant she'd tell Renee and Allison, and all of it would circle back to Nicky, who would whisper to Aaron because the gossip in him couldn't help himself, then Kevin would be informed through initial curiosity and eavesdropping as the plot thickened and then sternly talk to Neil about it during one of the night practices and — _no_ , there wouldn't have been an end to it. 

Neil frowned at this and scrolled down. Surely, no good would come out of telling the team if they were all going to quietly find out eventually. He couldn't think of any other step that would be stupid. 

**4\. Reduce contact with him/her.**

For a while, Neil thought Andrew would be the type to find reasons to talk to him. Trip him on purpose just so he could be helped up and asked if he was okay. Buy too much food and throw it at him just to see him actually feeding himself. Actually become a goalie decent enough to block a series of Neil's shots for a chance to shout his head off with criticism. Bump into him and say sorry, just to get the apology across without all the awkwardness.

Neil was terribly wrong on so many counts. One hundred percent painstakingly all kinds of  _wrong_.

He sighed. At least this step was over and done with, even though he didn't have to go through the first three. The contact had significantly reduced ever since Neil clumsily put an end to it. Still, there wasn't a part of him that didn't want it all back. He wondered if there was a way to strangle the author of this article for so obviously pointing out what he should do. If more help had to come from Matt's doled out pity party, Neil was sure he was going to combust. 

**5\. Seek closure with him/her.**

_Yikes_.Neil was so new to this concept. No way in hell would Andrew even recognize "closure" as a word. That would be downright disastrous, a notification that the world was about to end. Neil imagined the two of them, sitting down and talking about it like two mature adults. Waiting for one to finish talking then replying with an answer of his own. Listening intently to one another. Rationalizing his side and thinking his side was stupid. Working things out, then agreeing to go back to not caring about each other more than the bare minimum. Maybe even agree that Neil becomes part of Andrew's inner circle again.

Then, slowly, a laugh started to rise up and out of him.

Neil _almost_ closed the tab. There was no getting over someone who wasn't over him. 

Or, well, Neil assumed Andrew wasn't over him. Really, he could go about these things and have his personal viewpoint on the matter, right? There wasn't anything stopping him from thinking that Andrew still cared about him. 

And it was ridiculous, but Neil, or at least a part of him, wanted that to be true.

**6\. Forgive him/her.**

Andrew never apologized to Neil, and that was because it usually wasn't his fault. He would always be the type to recognize when it was his fault, and he has never wronged Neil. Not once, not ever. Neil had learned early on how to distinguish affection from hostility, and even if Andrew always tried to hide it, he always gave Neil his own version of the latter.

They hadn't been together long enough to be sure that Andrew was going to be perfect forever; a complete judgement of his character helped determine that it was only a matter of time before he began freaking out and pushing Neil away. A few more years had to happen before any one of them said the three words they were both afraid to admit. And it only took his homophobic twin to ruin things between them with one off-handed comment.

Up to this point though? Faults-wise, Andrew got off  _scot-free_. And he never once gave Neil shit for being a shit boyfriend, a shit teammate, and... a shit person in general.

Neil scoffed. This step was the most useless thing he had explained to him.

**7\. Do the things you love.**

Neil loved running. Over the course of his newly-found singledom, he had started getting up earlier and running longer. (Matt knew better than to question it whenever he would find Neil still out running at 9 in the morning.) Finding new routes to take, discovering new turns, coming across new places he hadn't known existed. Routine was now more of a sickness than it was familiar, and Neil itched to leave it all behind and start afresh. _Change was good_ , he kept reminding himself. Out with the old, and in with the new.

He also loved Exy. Putting more of himself into practices and becoming more present on the court had helped the team a great deal. Kevin floundered for new ways to criticize Neil during their night practices and came up with nothing, and a few compliments actually forced their way out of his unsure tongue. Wymack looked on this change in attitude with approval.

("Keep doing whatever you're doing, Neil," Wymack had said after one practice, looking at him with a glint in his eye. "We'll reach finals if you keep bringing that game to court.")

Because he upped both activities by a great deal, Neil ended up being more tired at the end of each day. So tired, really, that his classes suffered the repercussions of an exhausted student's actions (but he still kept up enough to pass; he was only in the school for Exy, anyway). Pushing himself past his limits only served to remind him that he could keep surpassing his capabilities and become better. Exerting his body physically made him tired, but it didn't exactly  _drain_ him, so he kept going. 

Energy consumption, it seemed, was necessary for Neil because the thought of Andrew was, for lack of a better word, self-consuming.

It religiously ate at him like a parasite, gnawing its way to the core reason why it bothered him so fucking much that Andrew didn't want to take him back. Neil did not want to acknowledge that core reason.

Also, Neil felt bad because his reasons for doing well in the other aspects of his life was because he wanted to avoid facing how much he fucked up in that one other aspect.

**8\. Meet new people.**

How in the actual fuck would that help? Before this, the Foxes had been new people to Neil; it had taken him so long to trust them enough with his life. It had been a while before he was able to let Andrew in (and, well, look how that turned out). Socialization, to Neil, was only necessary if you were seemingly unsatisfied with the people you hang out with. He liked to think of himself as an ambivert, but in the sense that he'll only be extroverted when he needed to be. Neil hugely prided himself on being a great conversationalist, on being able to think up of witty remarks two seconds after whoever he's talking to said something. Being good at making friends didn't exactly mean Neil liked making friends.

And besides, dating, as far was Neil was concerned, was a complete waste of time. He really didn't like the idea of swinging. 

"Yeah... not gonna happen," Neil mumbled, and scrolled down to the next step.

**9\. Know that there is nothing wrong with you nor him/her.**

Neil had to bite his tongue to stop himself from laughing at this one. There were so many things wrong with the both of them; they were collectively a class A freak show. ( _Come to think of it_ , Neil thought,  _did normal even exist at all with the Foxes?_) Between the two of them, Neil was sure of the unwavering contest about who was more messed up. There was no points system, no scoring needed at all when each personal issue was evident between the two of them: Neil still looked away whenever Andrew lit up a cigarette with his lighter; there were still times when Andrew asked Neil to keep his hands in his pockets; Andrew hasn't allowed Neil to be on top of him; shivers go down Neil's spine when Andrew touches his scars. 

God, were they both beautifully painted with life's mistakes. Tainted prettily with the sins of people they couldn't ever forgive. Neil wasn't sure if he wanted both of them stripped clean of the past, or if he wanted the wrongness of it all to stay as a reminder because in the end, it really didn't matter. Because for once in their lives, they both got something right, something that was  _okay_ for the both of them. Because they had each other, and that was enough to cancel out whatever made them feel like dying was a better option. 

 _Not anymore_ , blared loudly across Neil's brain.  _One point for Neil, ding ding ding. Guess I'm more fucked up now._

**10\. Recognize there is someone out there for you.**

Who the hell did this article's author think he was? Neil wanted so badly to shout at him, tell him that being single wasn't really a big deal. The idea that everyone was fated to meet and end up with someone discounted the possibility that was permanent solitude. His heart ached badly for those who don't have anyone and get told that dying alone was undoubtedly a shit way to go. Being tied down wasn't the end goal to a happy life; being alone didn't equate to living an incomplete life. Relationships took up so much personal time, energy, and space; Neil didn't know if that waste was worth it for the so-called love he had yet to experience.

Or, the love he could've had more of, but let go.

"Fucking hell," Neil muttered. This article did the complete opposite of what it was supposed to do; Neil believed less and less in the powers of journalism. He went ahead and read the last sentence of the article.

_"We are complete by ourselves and relationships should not be there to complete us."_

Scrolling down a bit more, Neil read on to discover that the author had found his supposed soulmate in September of 2013. 

"What a goddamn _joke_!" Neil shouted, and slammed down the screen of his laptop. He let himself boil in his anger for a little longer. The Internet, for the first time, had proved completely useless in helping him with his dilemma. Human beings proved useless in giving advice, now advice columns weren't doing their job. Neil supposed this was the reason why scientists were so hell-bent on making artificial intelligence a thing. Maybe then, these gadgets, when provided with a functioning conscience, could finally tell society the things they needed to hear.

He especially hated that after all the trouble the article author went through about moving on, he never once warned Neil he'd move on to _someone else_.

Then again, it was more progress than Neil had made for himself. After the article, a quick self-examination revealed that he never even stepped foot out of square one. The state he was in was both pitiful  _and_ deserving of further studies from the experts. He wondered if he'd make money off of being a psychologist's case.

Closing his eyes, Neil allowed himself to think the one thing he'd been avoiding the whole day. After this, he'll think it again tomorrow. This was a rule Neil had made for himself, mostly to keep himself sane, but also to grant himself the satisfaction that the one person he wouldn't lie to was himself. 

 _Andrew Minyard, I shouldn't have pushed you away_.

 


	5. it's cold in my apartment

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [andrew's pov]
> 
> He couldn't fully grasp the necessity of this session. Whoever told Betsy he and Neil weren't on good terms was going to have it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ft. [Stronger by One Direction"](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RuIK2wCoy5A) (because it started playing, and I got inspired).

"Andrew," Betsy said warmly. She opened the door and gestured to the couch in front of her. Andrew noted the extra sweetness in her voice, as if she wanted to subtly indicate _yes, I know how Neil fucked you over_. "Please, have a seat."

"Why am I here, Bee," Andrew said, not even bothering enough to pose the words around a question mark. He stepped inside and let Betsy close the door for him He frowned a little at the Foxes 'family' picture that hung crookedly on the team therapist's wall.

That picture. Andrew closed his eyes, inhaled a bit through his nose. Quietly, he tried to still his heart. He remembered the moment a little too clearly. It was taken after their first game against Breckenridge that fall season. They’d lost, seven points to Breckenridge’s nine. Despite this, the Foxes showed none of the loss on their faces. Dan was the front and center of the picture, up on Matt’s shoulders. Wymack was off to the side, arms crossed, a face prouder than usual. Nicky was frozen in a gleeful _whoop!_ pose, his arm slung around a grumpy faced Aaron, who was beside an emotionless Andrew. Allison had her arms wrapped around Seth, who flexed for the camera. Renee was smiling softly beside Nicky. Andrew’s eyes flitted over to Neil, who smiled brightly with two fingers up, covering Kevin’s slightly unhappy face. Two points for his first game.

Neil’s first game with the Foxes. Times were simpler back then. The moment had been more wholesome than any of them wanted to admit. _Having it captured only made it more real_.

After hearing Betsy clear her throat, Andrew circumspectly made his way over to the couch and sat down, inadvertently placing one of the couch cushions on his lap. Wymack had required each of the Foxes to pay a visit to Betsy Dobson at least once, and these mandatory visits only happened at the beginning of the semester. Usually, none of them had to see her again until it was time for fulfill the visit requirement. Usually, Andrew never felt uneasy whenever Betsy called him over for a visit at random. These random visits happened without intent. This one felt very much like a visit with intent. Andrew promptly decided he didn’t like it.

"A better question would be," Betsy replied, closing the door and walking over to her desk. "'What made me stop going here, Bee?' You might want to ask that one again."

She took out a hard candy from a glass jar and tossed it over to Andrew. It hit the top of his head, then fell into his lap, which instigated a frown.

"You know," Andrew began, looking down at the hard candy—which was a lemon yellow, sitting in his palm,  _damn it_ ,  _Bee_ —and contemplating his next few words. "We aren't as buddy-buddy as we used to be, because I'm all better. Not a case anymore, remember?"

"You haven't stopped being difficult, I can see that now," Betsy observed, looking back at him over the top of her glasses. She raised an eyebrow, leaned back on her seat, and crossed her arms.

Andrew sighed. He has learned early on, and is constantly re-learning, that grownups being part of the rumor mill was never a good idea.

"I've stopped being psychologically damaged, not difficult. I don't need to see you."

He couldn't fully grasp the necessity of this session. Whoever told Betsy he and Neil weren't on good terms was going to have it. 

Sighing, Betsy stood up, and put both her arms on her desk. After a few moments, she said, "David told me you’ve been having  _quite_  the week on the court," She moved to sit down on the armchair opposite the couch. She leaned back and crossed her legs. "Care to tell me about that?"

There  _had_  been some minor transgressions during practices, Andrew could give her that. They weren't any that was _unheard_ of. He's always ignored Aaron everywhere and anywhere, except for the times he deems it necessary for them to interact. He’s always pushed Matt against the locker whenever he got a little too close. He’s always told off Dan for being a little too _team captain_ in his face. And whenever he was up to it, he’s always threatened Wymack that he’ll quit if he didn’t get his whiskey.

“About what?”

“About you letting goals slip past you.”

“I—”

“ _On purpose_.”

Andrew hoped he didn’t look as taken aback as he felt. “I have absolutely no idea what the _fuck—”_

Betsy’s jaw clenched. “Language, Andrew.”

“—what the _hell_ you’re talking about. Coach doesn’t even watch us practice half the time.”

“But Dan tells him enough to cover the half that he doesn’t watch,” Betsy replied, taking down notes on her clipboard. “And the other half, he _does_ watch, if he isn’t busy chastising Kevin for being too much of a know-it-all, or telling Allison to quit being whiny. You’re losing your touch. And it’s not because you actually are. I want to know why.”

Clenching his fist, Andrew looked down at the floor. Betsy hasn’t changed her fur carpet, even after Andrew’s told her several times it looked like it wanted to be stepped on. Right now, it looked a lot more acceptable to have his eyes on, more than Betsy’s knowing stare, or at the Foxes’ group picture on the wall, or at the window which let too much of the sun in, or on the harsh reality that was his life. He wanted to be able to will it all away.

The blanket silence covered the both of them. Betsy let a few seconds of it pass, then adjusted her glasses before going back to staring at Andrew.

Andrew didn’t even _know_ that people knew he was letting it get to him.

(Okay, yeah, _maybe_ he knew. But he didn’t know he was manifesting it to the outside world. And in such an obvious manner too.)

“Maybe,” he goes, staring at the ceiling. “They deserve the pity from me. Positive reinforcement and all that shit.”

Betsy coughed into her hand. Andrew heard the amusement anyway. “That’s not how it works and you know it. Besides, you can leave the psychiatric function to me. Reading into your own feelings when you don’t have a clear mind is never a good idea.”

“So how do psychiatrists do it for a living.”

“We die a little inside each day to make room for other people’s lives.”

“Then where’s my psychiatric license?”

“Back in the room where my last sentence failed to register as a joke for you.”

Andrew stared at Betsy, feeling absolutely nothing at all. She shook her head and put her clipboard by her desk.

“Acting all clever won’t save you from anything, Andrew,” she said softly. The truth of it hit Andrew harder than it came out. “It most certainly won’t save you from yourself.”

 _Save me from myself_. There was an instance when Neil had told him something along the same lines. They were both on Andrew’s bed, sharing parts of themselves they’ve never given to other people. Neil had completely let his guard down, and told Andrew all about the first few identities he’s ever had to build for his survival. The very first one had a name near to Abram – Adam, 7, boy that wanted to go to a prestigious college when he grew up. Then came Gavin, 8, who liked comic books and sided with the villain a lot of the time.

 _Is it because the evil people had a point?_ , Andrew had asked.

 _No_ , Neil had replied, then stopped to think. Andrew even remembers the slight upturn of his mouth. _It’s because they’re not trying to save anyone but themselves._

_But isn’t looking out for themselves what makes the entire world go to shit?_

_At least they’re being honest about it_. Andrew had shrugged, because Neil had a point.

_Besides, things work out in the end anyway. The comics don’t show it, because complete documentation is never the point, but in my head, both sides gradually become okay. More than the audience realizes._

“I just,” Andrew allows, gritted teeth and defenses up. He doesn’t know what he wants the end of this notion to be. He doesn’t know if Betsy should even _know_ anything about what he wants. Maybe he wasn’t ready to be saved. Maybe there was no salvation at the end of this. Just a pure, rapid descent back into the darkness, where no one can come in and bother him like this ever again. Andrew has lost track of the moment when he started to crawl back up from his comfortable seclusion. Maybe letting people in wasn’t so rewarding after all.

“It’s so much harder now,” he finishes, looking at Betsy square in the face. _Now that he’s around, but not in the same way_. His chest was still tight with fear at the vulnerability. _God_. When did he become _such_ a drama queen?

Betsy’s face was full of concern. “There is a lot that could be solved by letting go of your pride, Andrew.”

Well, _that_ was incredibly straight to the point. Andrew’s hands subconsciously went to his arms, a wave of disappointment hitting him when he finds his knives gone. He had cut the habit, since he had no one to protect anymore. He should really go back to having his knives with him again.

“I see no reason why I should let my guard down any more than I already have. Maybe you’re not so cut out for _this_ type of advice, Bee.”

“No, listen to me,” Betsy said, leaning forward and lacing her fingers together. “If you haven’t actually noticed? You’ve been shutting down the goal for everyone _except_ Neil. Now, once or twice, it would be just some mistake to sweep under the rug, something to improve on, but when David sees Kevin extra frustrated because he’s not getting anything in, but Neil just so _happens_ to get all his shots through, he’s smart enough to know it’s a problem. A big one that would blow up in the team’s face, as much as we don’t want to admit it.

“I’m not saying that you should go talk to Neil, or that you should stop acting differently towards him. _That_ is between you and him. It’s a decision that should come from _you_. All I want,” Betsy placed her hand on the couch’s arm, “is for you to clear your head. David didn’t allow me to cut your practice time, because Kevin might have a fit or something, so he signed off on all the excused forms for your classes tomorrow.”

The goalkeeper rolled his shoulders back. His teachers won’t miss him anyway; he didn’t care about academics, but even the records would show he’s doing a lot better than the faculty expected him to.

He _also_ didn’t care enough to block off the goal for Neil, that much was true. It didn’t even seem so much of an asshole move to him up until Betsy mentioned it. Neil likes a challenge, and Andrew was deliberately not giving it to him. If the topic was ‘things Neil deserved’, a spot on that list would be off-putting Exy practices.

Others can call it immature. Andrew prefers to believe that it serves him right.

“Did it ever occur to you, or to Wymack, that I might actually _like_ learning when I’m not on the court or with the team?”

Betsy smiled at this retort, and stood up. As she walked towards the door, she grabbed Andrew’s excuse permit from her desk and another lemon hard candy from her jar. Andrew stood up and took both from her, feeling particularly ruffled.

“Well,” Betsy replied, opening the door for Andrew, “Do you not realize that the things you need to learn aren’t so far from the court or team anyway?”

* * *

That night, Andrew stayed in his and Kevin’s room, while the rest of the team went to a downtown restaurant for dinner. He had texted Nicky his order, only to receive a reply of, _yeah, Neil said you’d want that_ , after which he immediately shut off his phone and glared at the ceiling.

“There you go again, thinking you know what I want,” Andrew mumbled, his grip on his pillow tightening. He could feel new coils of anger unfurling throughout his arms. There were so many things that could go wrong from here, he realized. The ball was in his court, having been the one (Andrew shivered at the metaphor) dumped, having been the one asked back. Neil had done both those things, both to which Andrew had responded harshly.

(A little too harshly, he was ready to admit. Not out loud. But to himself. And this doesn’t mean he’s sorry. He is _definitely_ far from sorry.)

Bee was, to a certain extent, correct. Andrew felt like his head housed insects, all picking through his thoughts and buzzing along with them. Letting his anger dictate his next actions wouldn’t make him any better. Neil breaking things off because of his anger at his father’s men? Because he was mad at Andrew’s supposed inadequacy? Because he was furious that their relationship didn’t live up to what he wanted?

Out of frustration, Andrew threw his pillow off of him, got down from his bunk bed, and walked out of the room.

Kevin had left their living room spotless, so his idea of cleaning to rid himself of any unwanted feelings was shot to hell, but Andrew was _itching_ for something to do. Something for his mind to sit on. Something that would keep him from putting his fist through a wall. _Anger was not the answer to everything_.

Trying to go to sleep would mean risking that the next dream might be about Neil, about something that could happen, or about something that didn’t. Going up on the roof would lead to mentally revisiting all events with Neil that previously transpired there. Leaving the room for a smoke would mean remembering Neil’s tendency to let cigarettes burn. Turning on the TV would mean thinking about how Nicky and Neil played video games there, or how Kevin told Neil off whenever he failed to record the latest Exy game. How Neil winked at Andrew afterwards, as if he didn’t record the game on purpose, as if he wanted to spite Kevin for being how he is.

 _Damn it_. The mind was a dangerous thing. Combined with the dangerous person that Andrew knew himself to be, he was impressed that the strength of his self-control was even at this level.

He grabbed Kevin’s MP3 player, put the earphones in, and lied down on the floor. The flatness of the surface gave him something to focus on.

“Might as well see what shit tunes Kevin listens to,” Andrew muttered, then shook himself out of it. He would slap himself out of it if he wasn’t so drained. Talking to himself cannot, and should not, turn into a habit for him. It’s just sad.

A press on the play button played _Strong – One Direction_. Andrew winced at the too-high volume, and lowered it down to half of the circle. _If Kevin isn’t deaf by the end of this season, he sure will be after I get him the good headphones for his birthday._

_So many words we’re not saying_  
_Don’t wanna wait ‘til it’s gone_  
_You make me strong_

Andrew felt like he was going to throw up. Half because this is probably _Kevin’s Thea playlist_ (a relationship which Andrew chose not to concern himself with, but the rumor mill was powerful enough that he knew what everyone else in the team knew – that they were on some sort of break), half because the lyrics hit a little (okay, a lot) close to him.

It’s not that he hated mainstream music. He was a firm believer in the fact that the energy that went into hatred should be reserved for things worth hating, and something that tugs a lot of people by the heartstrings was not one of them. There are several words Andrew could use to describe One Direction. _Relatable_ was never one of them. Up until now.

_I’m sorry if I say, “I need you”_  
_But I don’t care_  
_I’m not scared of love_  
_‘Cause when I’m not with you, I’m weaker_  
_Is that so wrong_  
_Is it so wrong_  
_That you make me strong_

“Okay, that’s enough,” Andrew admonished, tossing aside the MP3 player and taking a deep breath. Right now, there was no one more ridiculous than he was. Except maybe for the people who actually _liked_ that song. He suddenly felt terrible for the lives of those who listened to the radio on a regular basis.

 _Maybe if we curated your music taste, you’d hate the world a little less,_ Neil’s voice sounded in his mind.

_I don’t hate the world, Andrew had replied, his head thumping lightly onto Neil’s shoulder. And music is far from my thing. Go talk to Kevin._

_No, think about it._ Neil had raised his hand, slowly gliding it through the air. _“Andrew Minyard, A Mixtape.” It would end wars._

 _You’re annoying_.

 _I know I am. But at least I’m annoying with some sort of music expertise_.

“Ugh, _get the fuck away from me_ ,” Andrew grumbled, pressing the heel of his hand to his forehead.

“Calm down, Evil Witch, we share the same room,” a voice from the door slurred.

Kevin had returned, and Andrew hadn’t noticed. He didn’t even hear the door open. Talk about being _that_ out of it.

“Wow. I _do_ wish I had a poisoned apple for your drunk ass,” Andrew shot back, sitting up and observing the way Kevin stumbled to the counter. The striker was particularly lacking poise tonight.

“Am not,” Kevin got out, then almost fell forward in holding back his vomit. He swallowed, then said, a shaky finger pointed at Andrew, “Am _not_ drunk.”

“Whatever you say,” Andrew replied. He got up and slung Kevin’s arm over his shoulder. On the way back to their room, Andrew grabbed a water bottle. Dragging Kevin back to his bed, Andrew wrinkled his nose at the smell of _alcohol_ and _bar_ and _smoke_ (probably secondhand – Kevin didn’t tolerate smoking enough to do it) coming off from Kevin in more waves than he was used to.

“Why weren’t you _withNeiltonight_ ,” Kevin inquired, too inebriated to separate his words. Andrew rolled his eyes and let Kevin flop down on his bed with less grace than he intended. “Oof,” Kevin went, crawling into his bed and letting his eyes fall closed.

“Because I wasn’t,” Andrew replied, taking off Kevin’s shoes and wondering how the hell he got stuck with a baby who knows how to drink in his second year at Palmetto State.

Kevin lifted an arm to point at Andrew. “He asked ‘bout you, y’know,” he slurred. “How you’re doing and shit.”

Andrew steeled. He’s hit with the realization that only _Dan, Matt, and Betsy_ know. And he figured that Betsy figured it out by putting the hypothetical pieces together. As much as he expected them to spill, they weren’t Nicky. Maybe this entire _not telling the team_ thing wasn’t working out for them.

“Kevin—”

“I said,” Kevin continued, getting on his back and blinking at Andrew, “that you’re harder to live with. Now that— now that _he’smovedout_.” He stage-whispered the last three words. Andrew made a face.

“Okay, we’re going to get you some water, and then we’re going to get you to shut up,” Andrew said lightly.

“It’s true,” Kevin insisted. “You’re— you’re like, _really_ a bigger asshole now.”

“And I am holding back this assholeness because you’re drunk.”

“Okay, whatever you say, Andrew.”

Andrew sighed. Even when Kevin is drunk, he still manages to retain some information said to him, if done right. This probably comes from him being a history nerd, or from his past experiences not wanting present him to forget anything.

Kevin was also probably not ready for any major revelations tonight.

“Just… don’t mention it,” Andrew mutters. He throws Kevin’s blanket over Kevin, and tipped some water into Kevin’s mouth.

Neil _asked_ about him? There were many things happening in Andrew’s system at the moment. Part of him likes the idea of pressing Kevin for more information. Part of him revisits the idea of putting his fist through a wall. Part of him thinks about going up to the roof, in the hopes that _maybe_ Neil might go up and try to talk to him again. Part of him wants to go over to Neil’s room, and… well, he didn’t really think that one through. _This is ridiculous._

After a moment, Andrew went back up to his bed and did what got him into the least trouble – he went to sleep.


	6. so take a look at me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Neil Josten, number ten striker, was not some bitch baby who complained about every hardship, but this particular hardship was kicking him in the ass. He could slap himself for having it affect him so much. It was so annoying.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Early big-ish update because I won't be able to update this until next, next Sunday (July 8). Still, I'll be posting stuff for [Andreil Week](http://andreilweek.tumblr.com), so look forward to that!
> 
> -*-
> 
> This chapter onwards will be having text conversations! Because the Foxes are not good at effective communication. Cheat sheet:
> 
> \- Andrew  
> ~ Neil  
> \+ Matt  
> # Nicky  
> * Kevin  
> \ Dan  
> ; Renee  
> $ Allison  
> | Aaron  
> {} Wymack  
> <> Betsy  
> [] Abby  
> → Any of the freshmen (Jack, Brian, Colby, Sheena, Brook, Lizzy; will be indicated)

Consider this: suppose Neil was actually starting to be okay about the whole thing. After around two weeks of moping around, maybe he was ready to leave it all behind, consider it water under the bridge. The sort of cracked between the planks, but whole enough to walk over kind of bridge. Sure, he was still in his sophomore year and he had a long way to go before actually leaving PSU and the Foxes behind. And yeah, maybe it still stung from time to time whenever Andrew shot a tiny look his way, whenever the goalkeeper acknowledged his presence whenever they were in the same room by actively ignoring his presence.

Because of this, one of the many teachings of Neil’s mother sticks out like the lone thorn of a rose:  _Life keeps going, and so should you._

Now, consider this too: Andrew visibly tensing whenever Nicky showed him pictures of cute guys. Neil being unresponsive and trying to remain apathetic for  _his_  sake. The breakup’s still a secret most of the team, and Neil knows it’s one Matt will take to his grave until Neil says otherwise, but he can’t help thinking about what  _Andrew_  might be saying about it. And, yes, today, it’s just guys, because Nicky is pretty invested in the belief that Neil is only able to swing one way, but Neil is sure that there will come a time when he and Nicky will pass by a cheerleader, and Nicky will ask what he thinks, and Neil’s silence will be misunderstood for contemplation, and then Nicky will be convinced he’s bisexual, which will only be more excitement for him.  _So much for being convinced I’ve repressed any and all other possible attractions._  He constantly thanks his stars that the freshmen are too selfish and preoccupied to be bothered with any drama concerning the older Foxes.

“Listen up, idiots,” Wymack declared, interrupting Neil’s train of thought. “You’re all going to have to shape up, because this Friday’s an away game against the Montella Tigers. Nothing you can’t handle, but it can easily get out of hand if  _some of you_  don’t make progress with maturity.”

At this, he eyes Neil, then shoots a longer and more pointed look at Andrew, who looked back with an  _and what about it?_  face. Neil did his best to hide a smirk.

“For some reason, Montella wants the game early in the afternoon, so if you all do good by me and by this university, the p card will be sponsoring your night out afterwards,” Wymack continued, Abby smiling and silently clapping beside him. He tapped his pen once on his clipboard, then placed it beside his ear. “All I ask is this:  _no funny business_. I guarantee all of you that I will find it  _far_  from funny.”

“That means  _bar hopping_ , Neil,” Nicky said excitedly, nudging Neil’s hip with his elbow. “I’ll tell Erik we’ll go. Y’know, to scout the locals. There might be some good fish in that sea, if you know what I mean.”

“ _Everyone_  here knows what you mean,” Allison deadpanned. She made a show of looking at her perfectly manicured nails. “That’s actually not a bad idea though. The PSU buffet isn’t particularly appetizing nowadays.”

“Amen, sister.”

“ _As I was saying_ ,” Wymack butt in, raising his voice a little, “Do good and win this Friday, and go have your fun. Do badly and still win, and you’ll have your fun too. Only with extra laps next practice. Losing is never an option, only a possibility. Got it?”

“Yes, Coach,” the whole team chorused, except for Andrew and Kevin.

“Now, everyone except for Dan, scram. Dan, let’s talk some more in my office.”

The assistant coach stood up and started shoo-ing them all away in a very team captain fashion. Neil felt a sudden pang of nostalgia at the action.

Without meaning to, his eyes flitted over to Andrew, who then looked away after the split second their eyes locked.  _He had been staring._  Andrew settled for looking down at his lap, placing a hand on his arm and leaning back on the couch. Aaron raised an eyebrow, but (thankfully) chose not to comment on it.

“As much as they’re below us on every ranking, the Tigers still won their last game,” Kevin stated, standing up and stretching. “We shouldn’t get too comfortable.

“Jack and Sheena, you two have been slacking off in practice. Today is Wednesday, so I expect the both of you to pick up the slack. Lizzy, I want you to talk to Andrew about goalkeeping, and see to it that you’re able to improve enough to sub in for him this Friday. Brook, you’re one of the good ones. Keep up the momentum. Colby, your drive is admirable during laps and drills, but you’re not showing it enough in the scrimmages. And Brian,” at this, Kevin put two fingers to the bridge of his nose, as if trying to find the right words for the freshman striker, “try to keep up, will you? I can’t reprimand you and Neil  _all the time_.”

As Nicky made a  _yikes!_  face, Neil remarked, “Don’t expect such good results when  _you_  haven’t been getting anything past—”

“Past Andrew?” Kevin’s voice was all ice and steel. Neil was taken aback by the tone. As if he  _knew_ — “Yeah, as if we don’t know the reason why.” He stood up and clapped Neil once on the shoulder. “Just stop falling behind, Neil.”

“Kevin, don’t,” Andrew asserted, but that was all Neil registered, as he was still glaring at Kevin and his audacity to bring personal matters into a team meeting.

Neil shook Kevin’s hand off in annoyance and glared up at him. He knew he was frustrated for several reasons, but did Kevin have to be a bigger douchebag than usual? Then, as if things weren’t bad enough, Jack chose the golden opportunity to remark, “Things truly _are_ different when you’re banging someone in the team.”

The awkwardness in the room was accompanied by Andrew’s deathly stare and Nicky’s mouth in the shape of an  _O_. Neil kind of felt sorry for whatever the Jack in Andrew’s head was experiencing. Jack’s head was yanked up by Allison’s grip on his hair. “Shut up, freshman,” she threatened.

“Yeah, Jack, stay out of it,” Brook added, kicking his foot as she passed by and made her way out of the room.

Neil shook his head and started to stand up. There were a lot of things he wanted to go down between Jack and himself - a harsh talking-to, a racquet beating, a fist fight. Maybe even letting Jack have a taste of who Nathaniel Wesninski really is wasn’t a bad idea.

But today was not that day. He made his way past the other freshmen peering up at him in curiosity.

“Neil, wait up,” Matt called, jogging up to him, bag slung over his shoulder.

“What, care to comment on my sexual relationship as well?”

“Don’t snap at me and prove Coach right.” Matt chastised, turning Neil to face him. They were just almost outside the locker room, the state of the sky and the wind indicating that it was about to rain. Neil was suddenly grateful that practice was over for today. “You don’t have to live up to what he said. You’re not immature. You’re just... going through a tough time, is all.”

“I just don’t get it,” Neil said sharply, continuing his walk from the Foxhole Court. If he happened to pass by Kevin before he got back to the dorm, he’d probably punch him out of spite. Also, yes, he _was_ fully aware he was acting like a child. “I try to make amends for what I did, then Andrew turns me down, then starts intentionally flopping on me during practices, then to make things worse? Kevin’s about to give me hell.”  _Shit. He probably knows something’s up._

Neil Josten, number ten striker, was not some bitch baby who complained about every hardship, but this particular hardship was kicking him in the ass. He could slap himself for having it affect him so much. It was so annoying.

Matt rolled his eyes and speed-walked beside Neil. At the rate Neil was going, they were already fifteen minutes away from Fox Tower. He grabbed his umbrella and maneuvered it open.

“How about a movie tonight?” Matt suggested. He was slightly out of breath, trying to catch up with Neil, but he continued, “To take your mind off things. You need to relax, you know. Before your practice with Kevin tonight, let’s watch some cheap chick flick and forget the world exists. If Kevin’s going to follow through on his promise, the least you could be is the better person.”

When the first few raindrops hit Neil’s arms, he shivered. He didn’t know if a movie would help. Hell, he didn’t even think there was anything that would help at this point. They rushed into Fox Tower quickly to avoid the rain, and made it up the stairs without so much as a word.

His phone buzzed him out of his mind and back into reality.

5:34 PM  
*We’re not practicing tonight.

 _Whatever_. He showed the text to Matt, who frowned a little, and said, “Guess that movie’s on the agenda tonight.” 

* * *

“I still can’t believe Neil is here!” Nicky exclaimed, pouring the popcorn into a big plastic bowl. Because there had been an argument about tonight’s flavor of popcorn, Nicky opted to get caramel instead of cheese (which was liked by only Matt). He threw the bag of jalapeño Cheetos over to Aaron, who caught it and went back to texting Katelyn.

“Nicky, Neil’s been here for _days_ ,” Matt reminded. “On the couch. Like a little b—”

“It’s not as if I can _help it_ ,” Neil protested, as the same time Aaron piped up, “Little baby? I agree.”

“Oh,” Nicky realized, as if he hadn’t been paying attention to Neil the whole time he was here. Neil felt a hint of guilt in his chest – he was probably overstaying his welcome. He sank a little deeper into his spot on the couch, ignoring Aaron’s silent offer of Cheetos.

“Whatever you’re thinking right now, stop it,” Matt jabbed his foot into Neil’s waist. “Stop thinking, _period_.”

“Usually your presence is annoying _and_ loud,” Aaron noted, making himself comfortable on his bean bag. He poked at Neil’s knee, as if to check if he was a broken toy in need of fixing.

“I’m fine.”

“You know, if you’ve noticed, there is not one get-together where you _don’t_ say that,” Matt commented.

“Well, we’re going to have a movie night, and we’re going to have a _funner_ time than usual by muting the movie and dubbing it ourselves,” Nicky announced, producing a bottle of vodka with a flourish. His grin was wide, knowing. “With an added challenge, of course.”

Neil never understood the appeal of doing everyday regular things drunk, but he supposed he had nothing better to do. Last time, they (Neil, Dan, Matt, Andrew) had played Monopoly drunk – Andrew had a bottle of scotch from Wymack, and Dan had brought over the classic Monopoly board game, since her sisters had come into town and wanted to free up space in their trailer. There were only so many ways a Monopoly game could go, and Neil, as it was his first time, was clueless the entire game. While he had a general idea of having money and properties, he had absolutely no concept of what a board game was. Unknowingly, he had ended up winning, bankrupting Dan and having Matt mortgage all of his properties. Andrew had stayed afloat with his properties, plus the advantage of landing himself in jail every time he was about to pass by Neil’s settlements. The game had ended when Matt threw his paper money onto the board and screeched, “ _Do you want to keep playing with just Andrew in the game?_”

Neil remembered slurring, “ _We both know who’s the winner here if you two drop out_ ,” and shooting Andrew a cheeky grin.

Nicky put in _The Breakfast Club_. Aaron took one look at the screen and groaned. “Are we _not_ sick of this movie yet? What happened to _Die Hard_?”

“It’s in the depository of ‘Bad Ideas by Aaron Minyard’,” Nicky replied with a shrug.

Neil moved over a bit to have Nicky sit between him and Matt on the sofa. He poured some vodka into each of their cups and said, “To a night like no other.”

The movie dubbing commenced, with all four of them periodically getting drunk every twenty minutes. Neil had only seen this movie once before, that time without the influence of alcohol, and he didn’t remember things being _this_ funny. Aaron was extra creative the more drunk he got, and Nicky liked using his turn to make every character swear. Most of Neil’s contribution was laughter, and the group didn’t seem to mind. Every time he was drunk was an out-of-body experience for him, like he was watching himself and his friends live their lives in every stupid manner possible, so it was doubly hilarious.

An hour into the movie, a knock came from the door. Matt let the laughter die down before he fumbled for the remote and hit pause.

“Foxes, dorm number 1,” he answered the door, smiling back at the people in the room. Amused, Aaron put a thumbs up.

“Call my brother and cousin, Boyd,” the voice from outside requested. Neil was shaken out of his inebriation a bit to recognize that it was Andrew.

“Is that Andrew?” Nicky yelled, popping a piece of popcorn into his mouth. “Tell him Aaron and I are… _otherwise occupied_ ,”

Shaking his head, Aaron said, “I don’t think you used that right, man.”

“Tell them it’s important,” Neil heard Andrew say, and from how serious it sounded plus probably the look on Andrew’s face, Matt seemed to be dumbstruck. He motioned for Aaron and Nicky to get up.

“Master’s orders, guys,” Matt joked, opening the door a bit more to show the room a serious-faced Andrew in his black hoodie and joggers, hands in pockets. Momentarily, Neil locked eyes with Andrew. He saw an unreadable expression on the blond’s face, before he forced himself to look away. Nicky and Aaron, having conditioned themselves into a temporary state of sobriety, got up and went outside.

The silence in the room, with just Neil and Matt, was deafening and unbearable. Neil put two fingers to the bridge of his nose and exhaled. Some things, like alcohol-induced forgetfulness, were too good to last.

“You know,” Matt said softly, “We can turn the movie off. We’re almost to the end anyway, so it doesn’t—”

 _No_. “Let’s finish the movie,” Neil insisted, his drunkenness already audible between his words. He was not going to ruin this night just because his ex ( _shit_ , even mentally confirming that hurt) dropped by. Also, he needed this movie to keep himself from asking if Andrew, by any chance, had asked about him.

“There are a lot of nights ahead for us to finish this, Neil,” Matt took a small step forward, as if Neil was going to blow up. He was cautious, gentle with the way he was phrasing his words. Neil, at that moment, decided he _hated_ gentle. Being coddled was _not_ how he wanted things to go. Too much of his life had already been compromised by being careful.

“You know _what_ ,” Neil slurred, loud enough that Matt was taken aback, “ _This_? This is the way things are now. You guys are just going to— have to— learn how to deal with that.”

“Come on, dude—”

“No, you listen to _me_ ,” Neil went on, standing up and wobbling a bit from how sudden he stood up. A small part of him noted how he was _seriously_ going to have to work on his tolerance if he was going to drink his sadness away. “I have been in this— this _place_ for days now. As much as I want to leave it, to go back to being okay? I can’t seem to do that yet. My mother always told me off for being not being able to keep my weaknesses at bay, always said that these were going to bring me to my deathbed someday. Now that she’s gone, I like to think that _that_ mentality is gone too.

“I know you care about me, Matt, and I’m _pretty sure_ , with how the Foxes are always betting on us or some shit, that _everyone else fucking knows_. You guys are major-ass gossips, so I wouldn’t expect any less. Well, let me cut to the chase for you guys. _Yes_ , I am a major wreck without Andrew, and _yes_ , it was _me_ who broke it off, but guess the hell _what_. I’m not over losing him. I’m probably the one losing the breakup. Yeah, I’ve heard of that. I know, and feel in my heart, 100%, that I’m such a _fucking loser_.”

“Neil—”

“Let me finish, for _god’s sake_! It’s been the toughest days of my life, and I don’t know how, or when, things are going to get easier. I know I’m a burden to you guys, and maybe I should get my shit together soon. But _maybe_ I’d have an easier time doing that if you guys stopped going so _easy_ on me all the fucking time. I can handle myself. I can stand up for myself against _some freshman_ who brings up my fucking sex life. I can go up to Kevin and tell him _myself_ that it’s mine and Andrew’s business, not anyone else’s. I can— I can have drunken movie night with my friends and finish the fucking movie whenever I say so. I’m not a child, Matt. You don’t have to be the male embodiment of your girlfriend, who polices people’s lives all the time. You can stop fucking parenting me all the time, Jesus.”

Matt was silent, back against the counter, not knowing what to do. Neil inhaled sharply after his big monologue, feeling worn out and very sore in the throat. Having harshly and inappropriately called out one of his closest friends, who let him in when he had nowhere else to be, didn’t seem like something he should’ve done. Still, he felt lighter, more dignified, as if the world had stopped going too fast. He was sick of feeling constantly put down, of feeling inadequate and small. The room was deathly quiet, save for the night crickets outside.

Blinking once, twice, Matt cleared his throat loudly, and gestured towards the door. Neil saw that it was ajar.

“Shit,” Neil mumbled, leaning back on the couch and mentally slapping himself. They might’ve heard him.

The tension in the room became a lot thicker. “Yep. ‘Shit’ is right. Uh. I’m going to go and,” Matt replied after a few moments, walking away from the counter, “um, avoid the uncomfortable, but probably necessary, confrontation when they come back in here.

“And you,” Matt put a pointer finger to Neil’s face, a glare on his own face, “I hope you think about what you said. I can only be so nice. Because you’re drunk out of your mind, I’m letting you off. _For now_.”

He walked away from the living room, and despite his drunken haze, Neil still felt like he lost yet another person tonight.

* * *

Early in the morning, the first thing Neil’s body registered was the searing pain in his head. It was _so_ loud. The repeated knocking of the hangover against his skull didn’t feel like it wanted to give him an easy time. It was a miracle he didn’t vomit, given how much he had to drink – although that could probably be blamed on how little he ate last night. He was fairly certain he was never going to drink that much vodka again. He was also faintly aware that there was something wrong somewhere apart from his system.

 _Matt_. The memory of last night’s events came back to him in a rushed flurry. Neil put the heel of his right hand to his eye and groaned. He had been _such_ an asshole, and Matt didn’t even throw a punch. In this moment, regret stabbed him all over the place.

What’s worse, his drunken tantrum was probably heard by Aaron, Nicky, and even Andrew, if he cared enough about Neil to pay attention. During practices, or even in chance interactions outside the court, it always seemed like Andrew really didn’t.

Which, admittedly, wasn’t something Neil had any right to be bitter about, or even any control over.

First on the agenda is to fix things with Matt, though. Neil though back to what he said last night, and winced a little himself. Sitting up in his couch-bed, he grabbed his phone from under his pillow and typed a message.

 _I am never going to get my heart broken ever again_ , he mentally resolved. _It makes me annoying as hell_.

10:23 AM  
~ breakfast in 30 mins pls

Neil wasn’t sure if he was going to get a reply. He probably deserved Matt ignoring him. Less than ten minutes later though, his phone buzzed.

10:31 AM  
\+ you done being an asshole yet?

10:32 AM  
~ maybe.

10:34 AM  
~ sorry for last night.

10:35 AM  
\+ no. I want to hear it in person dumbass

10:36 AM  
~ let’s meet at the diner

* * *

“Hey, Neil greeted, sitting across from Matt. He was more than ready to kick his hangover in the ass with greasy breakfast food. They were seated near the window, and the booth seats were too big for just the both of them, but it seemed like they were going to be staying awhile.

Matt put down the menu he was looking at (or just pretending to look at, Neil could tell) and crossed his arms. He shot Neil an expectant look, as if to say, _well?_

Swallowing, Neil looked down at his hands on the table and muttered, “Sorry I was a dick last night.”

Matt moved his head to one side. “And?”

“That I had to bring you and Dan into my drama,” Neil sighed. Even he was tired of himself. He noticed Matt’s fatigued slouch, his weary eyes. “Won’t happen again. You weren’t the true reason for my anger and frustration.”

“Than what _was_ the reason?”

Neil proceeded to put up a finger for every item he listed, “Myself. This shitty situation. The universe not cooperating with me on it. My brain, for not coming up with a better solution. The scientists of this generation, for not being able to invent time travel yet. A bunch of other things I can’t control. I’m a mess, Matt.”

Shaking his head, Matt went back to looking back at the menu. “Pfsh. Fine. You’re forgiven. Whatever. But I seriously hope you know that you have _some_ control over what’s happening to you. Ever heard of free will?”

“Yeah, the bitch who got me into this mess in the first place?” Neil let out a bitter laugh. “I don’t know her anymore.”

“It _might_ just be the one that saves you from this downward spiral. You don’t give its power enough credit.”

A hand rested on Neil’s shoulder, almost making his jump. “My boyfriend is right.”

Dan shot Neil a small smile as she walked over to Matt’s side and sat beside him. Sheepishly, Matt mouthed a ‘sorry’, probably for not giving some sort of warning. Neil felt another pang of guilt wash over him.

“Dan, I’m sorr—”

“No, cut that out,” Dan waved him off, raising a hand for a waiter to come over to their table. “I am not having that. You may have meant what you said, on some subconscious level, but we all have our bad moments. Matt over here is a softie,” At this, Dan ruffled his hair a bit, eliciting a blush from Matt, “But you’re not getting away from me so easily.

“You _did_ imply I was a bossy ass bitch. Not that that’s _wrong_. I like being able to assert myself and getting the things that I want. But it was still said as an insult, and I’m not having that shit today, or any day of the damn week, Josten. I _am_ willing to let it go though, on one condition and one condition _alone_.”

Neil braced himself for what was to come, pushing down the tiny bit of fear he felt at Dan’s tone. He was so intensely focused on rifling through what he could give Dan that Matt had to shake him for his order.

“Oops, sorry. Uhhh,” Neil went, looking over the menu quickly, then back at the waiter, “I’ll have the chicken and waffles. And a coffee.”

“The bacon special, please. Also an iced coffee,” Matt piped, and Dan said, “And I’ll have the French toast. And some orange juice.” The waiter nodded, and walked away.

“Now,” Dan went on, looking back at Neil, a glint in her eyes. “For what you have to do.”

Beside her, Matt looked a bit uneasy. Because of this, Neil felt a little nervous himself. He spent a few minutes looking down and fidgeting with his fingers, before looking back up at Dan.

“What is it?”

Dan’s grin was sharp, knowing. “Fix things with Andrew.”

Neil’s heart jumped to his throat. “Now, that’s going too _far—_ ”

“Oh, come _on_. I didn’t mean get back together, no. _That_ ,” Dan eyed Matt, “will happen in its own time. If it’s meant to. What I want is for you guys to get on some sort of civil ground.”

“Good luck with that, boss. He won’t talk to me.”

“Then you’re just going to have to work on it, now, will you?”

“How? You _know_ he’s incapable of being a decent person if he doesn’t want to be.”

Dan sighed. “Neil, you broke up with _him_. That’s hurt two things. His heart _and_ his pride. You were in a place of power during the breakup, and you used that power to hurt him that way. It’s a lot to take in, and a lot to get past. If you don’t realize that, then you’re probably not supposed to be in his life anymore.”

The words washed over him, like a bucket of ice water was poured over his head. Dan was absolutely right. All this time, Neil was desperate to go back to some sort of new normal with Andrew, all the while not considering how _Andrew_ felt about the entire thing. Begging Andrew so soon to take him back, Googling articles for some semblance of comfort, getting drunk to forget it all, lashing out on his friends. He was forcing things for _himself_. It wasn’t healthy.

“God,” Neil replied, putting his head in one hand. “I’ve been _so_ selfish.”

“See, I told you that he wouldn’t get it if it was just me,” Matt said to Dan, smiling and kissing her on the cheek. Dan rolled her eyes, smiling a little herself, and kept his eyes on Neil.

“Now, you’re at this point in your life where you feel _totally_ helpless, and that’s completely normal. It’d be weirder if you had it all figured out from the get-go. That’s what makes life so exciting. It’s so full of surprises, and each one, while not assuredly good or bad, will help you grow and prepare for the next one. It’s just the way things are.

“I’d tell you to stop letting it affect so much of the other aspects of your life, like practices, or your time with friends, or your schoolwork. But it’s too soon. Right now, I want you to ask yourself about what it is that _you_ truly want for _yourself_. For _your_ own life. I also want you to take into account the reasons why you want these things for yourself. Is it because they’re good for you? Because you see a long-term benefit? I know it’s going to take some reflection, and if at the end of all the meditating, you still want Andrew as a significant other, then that’s that. But in the process of getting back on your feet, it really doesn’t hurt to consider other things you might want.”

Neil let himself fully consider Dan’s advice. There were a lot of things he wanted. Keep the Foxes together forever, even after graduation. Win every Exy match. Graduate and get recruited to the US Court. Stop being afraid of his father’s men and the possibility that they’re plotting to seek revenge on him. Fully accept the fact that he sold his entire life and career to the Moriyamas just so he could keep playing. Get nights full of sleep instead of being woken up by nightmares of his mother dying. Live an actual normal life.

Apologize to Andrew. _Maybe_ even tell him that he wants to try again. That he might still actually l—

Matt’s fingers snapped in front of his face, jolting him out of his thoughts. “Hey, man. Did you get all that? Dan was starting to get into some pretty deep shit.”

Looking at Dan and Matt, Neil managed a small smile. He still cannot believe he had to be told off so that he could stop behaving out of his mind, but he was finally going to get his shit together. And it was going to start with working on himself.

The waiter chose that exact moment to arrive with their food, and their plates were set in front of them. Matt shoveled a large piece of bacon into his mouth and smiled brightly at Neil. Dan put a thumbs up and looked at him inquiringly.

“Yeah,” Neil replied, nodding. “I got it. Thanks, guys.”

"Well, I already know you'd be a lost and hopeless case without my help, so I think I'm only doing my job," Dan joked, then grinned at Neil's fake pout.

"It's no problem, Neil,” she said reassuringly, ruffling Neil’s hair playfully.

A certain calm settled over Neil's body. It wasn't happiness, but it was close. He allowed himself the privilege of enjoying it, and went back to enjoying his meal.


End file.
